Sunlight in Her Smile
by OnceQwerty
Summary: A story about how Torres finds love. Other character is completely made up. Started as a one-shot, but I couldn't let it rest, and so now it's three chapters. Complete.
1. Sunlight in Her Smile

She was standing at and leaning over his desk when he came into the room. She wore a simple black dress that accentuated her curves in ways that made his fingers twitch. McGee and Bishop were bickering over something on their way in the door and Gibbs, well, he was sure to be here somewhere.

Clearing his throat, Torres said, "Can I help you?"

He lost his breath when she turned around. A petite brunette with sparkling green eyes and a smile that lit up her face, she was a vision. "Hello, Agent Torres. I'm Monique. I work downstairs. I'm a tech working the polygraph. I hope you don't mind, but I've come to ask you a favor. I hear that you were under cover for a long period. I'd like to have you sit for me – it helps to have people experienced in facades and controlling emotions as guinea pigs, so to speak." She finished the last with an even wider smile.

His tongue was tied. He couldn't get actual words to come out of his mouth. "Uhh-"

"Oh! I forgot. I come bearing gifts to entice you." Her voice was full of life and laughter as she turned around and grabbed a cup from his desk. "It's the best coffee in 10 miles. Once you try it, you'll either rue the day I came into your life or thank the heavens above, depending on how addicted to coffee you are."

She handed him the cup and their fingers touched briefly. He still hadn't managed to get a word out and it was going to become obvious here in a moment.

"Grab your gear. We have a body." All attention was diverted to Gibbs and Torres breathed in slowly. Gibbs to the rescue.

"Agent Gibbs, I wouldn't come empty handed for you, either." With a winning smile, Monique gave Gibbs a cup of coffee, too. Looking back to Torres, she said, "Please think about it? I know you are busy, but you'd be helping so much." With that, she walked to the back of the room. The light from the windows along the wall shone on her hair and it appeared to sparkle.

"Torres. You coming?" Although what he said was a question, Gibbs' tone was more of a statement. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Torres grabbed his bag and joined the team at the elevator.

* * *

He was quiet, _moody_ , as Quinn mentioned, on the way to the scene. His mind was drifting back to those beautiful green eyes and the laughter in her voice. Although he engaged at the site – taking photos and commenting on what he saw – his mind was only half there. He remained that way for several days; involved in the case, but distracted.

It was Thursday night when Gibbs finally walked over to his desk after everyone else had left and said, "So, you going to do something about it?"

He looked up in surprise. "Do something about what?" He asked the question, but he knew what was coming.

"Not every day that someone can rattle you. It didn't take much. Seems like that would be an indication there's something there." Gibbs didn't say exactly who and what they were talking about, but Torres knew and he didn't want to pretend otherwise.

"I've never…" He couldn't finish. He didn't know what to say.

Gibbs smiled and nodded. His mouth turned up in a half smile that made it clear that he'd been there himself. "Well, a reaction like the one you've had doesn't come along very often. If it were me, I'd want to explore what comes next. Think about it." With those words, Gibbs departed for the night.

Torres stared into his computer screen for an hour before he packed up to leave.

* * *

On Friday, Torres decided he had to try. At the end of the day, he went downstairs and found her in an office to the right of the stairs. She was facing away from the door, listening to some horrible 80s hair band music. Her hips swayed with the beat. She was in a deep green skirt or dress – he couldn't tell because she also had a light brown leather jacket on. She appeared to be tidying up before leaving for the day. When she turned around, she gave a start, surprised at his presence.

"Oh! You startled me, Agent Torres."

"Nick," he cut in.

"Nick," she said with a smile. "Have you thought about sitting for a polygraph for me? I promise to make it as painless as possible." She beamed at him, but her smile appeared to dim a bit when she looked into his eyes.

* * *

The music was one of her favorites, a rock ballad about love with a beat that got her feet tapping and her body moving. It had been a long but pleasant week. She was, however, looking forward to having a nice glass of wine and curling up with a book. When she turned around, Agent Torres was in the doorway, leaning on the jamb with his arms crossed. It gave her a quick start.

Since he must be there to talk about the polygraph, she jumped right in. As she spoke, she looked in his eyes and saw that they were… well, _stormy._ He appeared to be struggling with something internally. "Nick? Is everything alright?"

His accent could melt chocolate and it tingled down her spine as he started to speak. "I've been trying to decide how to handle this since Monday morning. There are a lot of ways I could go, most of which would mean you'd never know until I was certain of your response. But I don't want to wait. I don't want to pretend to be cool." He took an audible sigh and stepped toward her, away from the door. He was close now, and she could smell his aftershave, or cologne, or _him_. It reminded her of fresh air on warm summer nights.

"I've been in more life and death situations than I can count." He paused, and with an intensity she'd never heard before, continued: "My heart has never pounded as hard as when you smile at me." She gasped, the look in his eyes was captivating. "Your touch left me breathless. I'll sit for whatever tests you want, for as long as you want. I don't care what they are, as long as it means I get to be near you. You're enchanting."

While he spoke, her hand had come up to her heart, which was beating an impressive staccato. "That is the most romantic thing..." She paused, and asked, "Is it true?"

He took another small step toward her, unflinchingly saying, "Every word."

"I don't know what to say." Now, she was breathless. This strong, beautiful man was speaking to her with such passion underlying his words. It felt surreal.

"Say you'll let me prove to you that I am the right man for you. The _only_ man for you."

* * *

The tension holding his body was almost overwhelming. He'd laid it all out there. She was searching his eyes, trying, no doubt, to be sure that he wasn't playing games – to assure herself that this was real. He didn't know what she saw in his eyes, but he felt like sunlight warmed him from within as she broke into a beautiful, wide smile. "Deal."


	2. Fire in His Eyes

She was going to have to break things off. Every day, she got deeper and deeper and there was no way it was going to end well. He was too perfect – funny, smart, handsome, intoxicating. They were in the living area of her apartment when she tried to just rip off the Band-Aid, "Nick, I don't think we should see each other anymore." He had been looking at the photos on her mantle. He stilled and faced her with slow deliberation.

"Why?"

He'd been punched in the gut. Her words cut through him, leaving a gaping wound that came out of the blue. She'd given no sign that she wasn't all in. He would have sworn that she felt the same way he had. And yet, here she was, telling him she was done. The words just didn't make sense.

She began to pace when he asked why. She was positively leaking energy, a ball of nerves that was visible to even the most unpracticed eye. He hoped it wasn't wishful thinking that left him with the conviction that she did not really mean what she was saying. He wanted to pull her into his arms until she explained what was going on, but he held his stance. She'd get no pressure from him.

She stopped mid-turn in her pacing and spoke in such hurried words that they ran together. "You don't understand. I'm not special. I'm not unusual or exceptional. You are wonderful; kind and strong, funny and smart. You are practically a magnet to me."

"You're right. I don't understand." What in the ever loving hell was the matter? She was making no sense. He walked toward her slowly, not wanting to spook her when she was clearly riled up. "You are _more_ than exceptional." He brushed an errant hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger before he drew them back.

Her response was shaky. "No." Her eyes pleaded with him. "You're going to wake up someday soon and be released from whatever it was that first drew you to me, but it will be too late for me. I'm already losing the battle. Too much longer, and I don't know if I'll come out of this whole."

He grasped the problem. Fear. She was afraid that he was going to hurt her. That he would walk away and leave her to deal with whatever pieces remained. " _Mi alma_ , I am not going anywhere. You have enchanted me; I want only to be with you." He had stepped closer to her as he spoke, ending with a whisper against her lips.

She shivered as she felt his breath against face. She should keep her resolve and end this, but she could not. Falling into his eyes, she leaned the tiniest bit and kissed him. The kiss was tentative at first, a question in and of itself. He responded to her light caress with equally light pressure. He was letting her decide how far she went. He was putting her on a pedestal that she would eventually fall from, but she would have to deal with that later. Now, all she wanted was more. She stepped into him, raising her arms to place her hands on the back of his neck as she opened her mouth to nibble on his lip.

The feel of her teeth scrape across his bottom lip, combined with her hands in his hair quickened the pace of his heart and left blood pounding in his ears. He deepened their kiss, exploring her mouth. He intended to maintain control – he needed her to see that he would follow her lead. As he mentally set himself that goal, he failed. A pleasured hum escaped her, ratcheting the coil in his belly. The room was divided from the kitchen by a wall clear of any decoration. He stepped them toward it, pressing into her full length as he devoured her mouth. Her responses were warm and golden, honey to his parched throat. She appeared about to protest when he took his mouth from hers, but let a low moan when his kisses moved down to the point where her neck met her collarbone.

In that moment, they caught alight. The fire that burned between them, something that he knew would be there but which had been smoldering under the surface up to this point. She arched toward him, encouraging him to continue and he did, covering every inch of her beautiful neck and tasting those full lips once more.

He stopped momentarily, rasping, " _Mi vida_ , I could no more walk away from you than I could stop breathing."

She sighed into his mouth, "Take me to bed." He stilled, no longer kissing her and no longer letting his hands wander. Here it was; she'd gone too far, too soon. She couldn't back away from him with the wall behind her and she couldn't take the words back. So, she closed her eyes, waiting for him to speak.

"Are you sure?" His voice was low, strained. Her eyes flew open. She'd thought – but no, his eyes burned with passion. He didn't want to stop; he wanted to make sure that she wanted _him_. "Yes," the word whispered from her as she leaned in to kiss his neck.

"Where?" Again, his voice was thick, his accent sending chills throughout her.

"Down this hallway, to the right." She'd barely said the last word when he scooped her into his arms and carried her to her room. Ever so carefully, he laid her on the bed, kneeling as she grabbed at his shirt from a sitting position and pulled him closer.

* * *

Nick's cellphone rang while she slept. He answered it, hearing that the team needed him to come in to assist with a new case. He looked at his beautiful woman, almost aching to wake her to see that wondrous smile before he left. He let her sleep, though, leaving a note instead for her to find.

"Was called to the field. Will be thinking of you, the smell of your hair and the taste of your lips. I leave my heart with you while I am away."

She woke in the late morning to an empty bed. She'd reached for him, but he was gone. Her mind began to spiral when she saw the folded paper by her nightstand. She read it, smiling. She didn't know where this would end, but she was too far gone to care right now. She was going to enjoy the ride while she was on it.


	3. Knowing it to be True

His days were filled with work, and his nights with her. Though she'd been afraid that his feelings would fade, they only became more cemented as time went on. The team noticed subtle changes in him. He'd been snarky and confident before – and still was - but now the pain that had lingered in his eyes was gone.

"Alright, it's been months now that you've been wandering around here like your feet weren't touching the ground. Spill," demanded Quinn. Bishop and McGee immediately perked up, wanting to know the same, but so far having been unwilling to give voice to their speculation.

He raised his eyebrows at her. He wasn't going to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about, but he wasn't convinced he needed to respond to the question either. In not denying it, he gave Bishop and McGee exactly the fodder they needed. Ever the investigators, they pounced, raising their theories to each other while he stood there.

"Maybe he's just settled in," Bishop posited. "You know, comfortable finally with no longer being under cover and constantly at risk?" She threw it out there, but her tone made clear she doubted that was it.

"Nah," said Quinn. "It's something else."

"No, it's _someone_ else," uttered McGee. "And I think I know who." Torres didn't think he'd reacted. He thought he'd kept his expression clear as if he'd been in poker tourney. Apparently, not so much.

"Aha! You got him!" Quinn's eyes sparkled with curiosity and success. She paused, and asked, "Who?"

Suddenly, _she_ was staring back at him from the video display. Her government issued I.D. was plastered on it. Even in photographs, her smile made his heart skip a beat.

"Wait, is that the polygraph tech?" So, Bishop recognized her.

"Yep," McGee muttered smugly.

"How do you know it's her?"

"Don't you two remember the week he walked around like a man in a fog? Back in April? That week kicked off with a visit from our local liar patrol." Torres could see that McGee was confident in his assessment. Though he tended to be a private person, there was no real harm in them knowing.

"You can take her off the board, McGee. I'll answer a few questions. Maybe." With his concession, Bishop and Quinn started beaming and McGee smirked in satisfaction. As her photo came off the board, Bishop started in on him: "How serious are you two?"

Well, wasn't that the question. He knew how he felt; he knew it was lasting. He hadn't been able to completely banish the doubt in her, though. She never spoke it aloud – outside of the night she tried to end them – but it would flicker in her eyes on occasion. He'd seen it and known that she still couldn't quite believe that he was going nowhere. He thought it might relate to how quickly he'd jumped in, that maybe she was holding a piece of herself back because he was so certain so soon. He'd resolved himself to proving it to her time and again until she accepted that he was hers for as long as she wanted.

"Come on, Torres. Out with it," Quinn thought his pause was a stall tactic.

What the hell? He knew the truth and maybe saying it would make it come to be, a pre-destiny thing. "She's the one." Three words, and all three of the other adults in the room came to a standstill. Those three words had been invested with such conviction.

Their voices could not be separated as they talked over one another to congratulate him. They were excited for him. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but their reaction warmed him. He'd been brothers in arms over the years to many, but alone for a long time. That this crew were so obviously pleased with his happiness made clear that he'd found the right home. Everything was falling into place.

* * *

She was late that morning because she'd needed to run to the bank. There was some mix-up with one of her accounts and the customer service rep had told her she needed to come in to verify her information in person. She sighed, waiting with the other seven patrons outside of the doors. Bankers' hours were the worst.

When they finally unlocked the doors and let them in, she walked over to the middle desk and asked for the individual she'd spoken to the prior day. It was going to be a "few" minutes, so she sat in one of the over-stuffed and stiff from lack of use chairs by the window. She was caught up in her phone, checking news and various trivia sites, when the first shot rang out.

There were four of them, each with full black clothing and masks that covered their faces. She'd hit the floor and hid behind the chair she'd been in when she'd heard the gunfire. From her vantage, she could see that each of the robbers were carrying shotguns, and one appeared to have a semi-automatic rifle with him, too. She was pretty sure they were all male; they ranged between Torres' and McGee's heights. Torres. Should she text him or try to text 911? He'd know right away that she wasn't a prank. It might get a swifter response. Recognizing that she didn't have a lot of time before they realized where she was, she started typing furiously.

* * *

Torres heard his phone go off on his desk. Smiling at the team, he unlocked the screen.

"What's wrong?" There was concern in Gibbs' voice. He'd come upon the group at the tail end of their discussion, just long enough to see Torres go from relaxed happiness to a tense statue.

He looked at Gibbs, handing him the phone while he got on his desk landline to the local LEOs.

 _At First National on Hawthorne robbery - 4 men. Masks. Shotguns and rifle. 8 patrons incl me. Not sure # of bankers._

"McGee, get tactical lined up, now. Quinn, get Abby to put a trace on Monique's phone. Bishop, figure out who from the PD we need to talk to when we get to First National on Hawthorne. Move, now!"

Gibbs took the landline from Torres and motioned to his phone, "Respond to her. I'll get this started."

 _Coming for you. Keep your head down. No heroics._

* * *

As was her practice, her phone had been on silent. It blinked green, notifying her that she had a text. She'd managed to palm it in such a way that the men hadn't seen it when they pulled her over to where the rest of the patrons and bankers were. It had been several minutes since it showed someone trying to reach her.

She didn't know much about bank robberies, but this one seemed to be taking a long time. It didn't make sense to her that they wouldn't just get the drawers and get out. For some reason, one of the men wanted into the safe. There was a scuffle with the bank manager, who ended up getting a bloody mouth for taking too long. The butt end of the rifle had left a mark on his face.

She was trying to just breathe. If everyone behaved themselves, the robbers would be out of here soon, and hopefully without hurting anyone else. Then the police or FBI, or whoever had jurisdiction, could track them down.

She didn't know if she could risk looking at her phone. She was at an angle from the two men guarding the hostages. The third man was by the bank door and the fourth was back in the safe. She might be able to look if she went slowly. She was sure it would be Torres. He'd be infuriated, though, if she risked getting hurt trying to see what his response was.

"Come on! Move it! We need to get out of here before-" The bullhorn cut off whatever he had intended to say. There had been no sirens to announce the police outside, but the speaker on the other end of the horn made it clear that there was no way the robbers were going to leave freely. Their captors' reactions to the horn was visible – they were cursing and tense, yelling at one another for the failure of the plan.

* * *

"Sir, you need to stay out of this. We have it under control." The officer in charge of the scene for the local PD was using his sternest, firmest voice. The man in front of him was obviously too invested with what was happening to think clearly. His girlfriend's text with the information about the robbery was helpful, but now it was time to let them do their jobs.

"Under control?! You just gave them bargaining chips! If they hadn't known you were out here, they would have come out with no one and you'd be able to take them without risking anyone. Now they _have_ to use those people to get out." Torres was irate. McGee was holding him back from tearing the other man's neck out. Monique was in there, and this idiot's actions had put her in more danger.

"We don't know that. I'm following protocol."

Gibbs stepped in. "So what's the plan?"

"With all due respect, this is outside of your jurisdiction, Agent Gibbs." Gibbs nodded at that, accepting the truth of it. He responded, "No question there. But you have in front of you five highly trained agents with tactical gear who can provide back up and help."

"Five? That man," the officer pointed to Torres, "is in no condition to assist with anything."

"Understood. Even taking him out of the equation, you still have four sets of extra hands here. Let us help," Gibbs' tone caught the balance between a demand and a suggestion.

The officer seemed to think it over. He could put these folks to use. If things went awry, it would be on them. If things went well, he'd be lauded for his cooperation. Although neither of those things should have been part of the decision-making process, they were what tipped the balance in Gibbs' favor.

"Fine. Jones!" He called for his second in command. "Get these four," he pointed, specifically excluding Torres, "on board."

* * *

The officer in charge was right about one thing, he was in no shape to be involved in a tactical action. He was out of control. She hadn't responded to his text. He didn't know if she'd even seen it; if she could even look. That innocuous building held the reason for his happiness, and he couldn't do anything to keep her safe. He needed to be involved, but his years of training also made him acknowledge that he was likely more a risk to her than a benefit. His emotions were just too variable at the moment for the clear thinking required.

Gibbs was talking with the LEOs when Quinn came over to him at the car. He was sitting on the hood, staring intently at the bank and glancing at his phone, willing it to ping. She didn't say anything, just sat with him. He gave voice to his thoughts, "I'm failing her."

"You're not," Quinn responded. "How could you even think that?"

"Because I can't get it together, I can't help." The muscles in his cheek twitched.

"Nick, even if you were outwardly the vision of peace and tranquility, they still wouldn't let you be involved. It would be too big a risk. You know that." Her eyes entreated him to listen.

"Maybe," he muttered, and his phone pinged.

 _One robber down. Knocked out ? By other robber. Fight over time it took and cops. All are by the door, trying to count cops, get plan. Dont know if can check phone again. Love you._

His heart stopped for a moment. She'd never told him she loved him before. He shook his head to clear it and called out to Gibbs. Torres showed him the phone and Gibbs returned to the officer in charge, who took up his radio, "Listen up. A hostage inside puts three of the robbers by the front door, with the fourth on the ground, possibly knocked out. This may be our best chance, so we're moving in. Now."

He couldn't breathe. His eyes closed momentarily, knowing that the next few minutes were going to be dangerous. The tactical teams swept up the backside of the building. His teammates were flanking on the right, while another came up on the left. And he watched. He watched the flash bang go off, saw the officers and agents enter the building, heard the pop of a handful of shots, and witnessed officers leading three men out of the doorway. It was an eon. It was over in less than 2 minutes.

"We've got some wounded. Send in the medical personnel." The sound of the radio snapped him into action. Monique was in there and he wasn't waiting any longer. Ignoring the PD, he sprinted into the building, his eyes searching for her green ones. The smoke from the flash bang had not entirely dissipated. He called for her, where was she?

* * *

When they came in, it was quickly. Her position hadn't given her the vantage to see it coming, which wasn't terribly surprising really. If she could have seen it coming, so too would the robbers have. The flash bang caught her off guard and so the pops of the guns were well, _odd_ , to her bruised eardrums. She felt a sting to the back left hip and thought that maybe some she'd gotten hit by some of the broken glass. She stayed put, but was able to reach down with her arm to put pressure on where the pain was emanating. Her hand felt slick, so she must be bleeding a bit.

It was an eternity, but over in an instant. The robbers were removed, save the one on the ground who was not moving. She'd seen an officer check his pulse, so he must have died in the rescue. Meanwhile, other officers were checking on the hostages, making sure no one was hurt. When one came to her, she rolled slightly and said, "I think I need to be looked at." She lifted her hand from the point of pain and the officer she was talking to called out, "Wounded! Medic!"

She felt oddly tired, like she as at the end of a long day, rather than it being mid-morning. She closed her eyes while she waiting for the EMTs to come check her out. She was laying like that when she heard him call out, "Monique!" Torres. She smiled.

* * *

He waited in her hospital room for her to awaken. She'd been hit by a ricocheting bullet in the left hip. They'd had to take her in to surgery and give her a transfusion, but the doctors expected that she'd be okay. She'd need physical therapy, but there were no anticipated lasting physical effects.

His eyes caressed her face. She was expected to come around soon. The sound of her breathing had changed. The joy he felt when those green eyes looked at him and she smiled was indescribable. She was back.

"Don't you ever do that again," he whispered to her.

A crooked smile appeared and her never ending humor came to the forefront. "Don't be a hostage in a bank robbery again? I think I can manage that."

He leaned in, kissing her gently. "I love you. I can't lose you."

He could see that she was struggling with what to say. "I know. I wasn't sure before, not because of you, but because of my own fears. But I know, now. When I was in there, all my doubt… it was obvious I was putting up walls to protect myself, but not because of anything you'd done." She took a deep breath and looked straight into his eyes, "I love you. I'm in 100%. No more doubts." He didn't need her words, because he could see the cobwebs of uncertainty were gone. He kissed her once more, secure in knowing that whatever came next, they were together.


End file.
